


Sacrifices

by sapphirephoenix



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-13 19:19:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7983178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphirephoenix/pseuds/sapphirephoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was a pinch hit for the fest:<br/>Prompt: 36. During the summer of 6th yr., after taking the Dark Mark, Draco figures out what he's gotten himself into and runs away... straight into the arms of a certain girl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Draco had never felt so... sullied in his entire life.

He was standing with his back against the wall, literal and metaphorical alike. He sniffed, trying to keep his skin from crawling. He resisted the urge to rub the Dark Mark on his arm as he tried not to think about seediness of where he stood.

Oh, if his father could see him now, in a Muggle neighbourhood, sneaking about in the dark, and lurking behind a girl’s bedroom door. Well, not lurking necessarily. Draco stood perfectly straight, his robes were perfectly tailored and pressed, and he held his chin perfectly parallel to the floor.

Draco tried to relax into his perfection, but then the little finger of his left hand twitched, and he remembered.

He clenched his teeth and made his silent oath again. Nothing as pure as a Malfoy would ever be sullied again, even if it meant ...doing what he was about to do.

At last, noise could be heard down on the first floor of the... house... he was in. It was nothing compared to Malfoy Manor, but he supposed it was satisfactory if you were a filthy Muggle and you had to do with the banal, finite space your meaningless existence afforded you.

Draco begrudgingly allowed that it was decorated with a modicum of good taste, which had surprised him upon his entrance hours ago.

Not that he'd ever let anyone know that. Exceeding low expectations was hardly worth mentioning let alone celebrating.

If anything, knowing that they were home made his patience shrink even faster than it had been dwindling before their arrival. What was going on down there that would delay his target so thoroughly?

Draco wanted to get on with it already! It had taken him just over two weeks to come to know what his instincts had told him. It was a reflexive decision, something that he knew he must do although it would be counter to everything he'd ever done before. Once he did this, his life would be changed forever.

Lost in his thoughts, he nearly missed the brief window of opportunity when it was presented to him. Luckily, the electric light caught his attention as it flipped on when the door opened.

As the door began to close, Draco made his move. With a couple of quick flicks and whispered 'Petrificus Totalus' and 'Stupefy', he had his target neutralized. A simple 'Mobilicorpus' later and she was settled on top of her bed. Her face was neutral, her body stuck as if she were gently closing a door.

Draco fought to keep the sneer off his face. He knew he needed her, had thought for days about this decision, certain that it could be only her.

"Rennervate," he said and leaned over so that he could look his captive in the eye. "Well, hello, Granger."

She stared up at him with no expression, but Draco imagined that he could see a plethora of thoughts and hexes glimmering behind her eyes.

"I bet I can guess what you're thinking. To begin, I would say you'd like to know what I'm doing here. How I made it past the wards, perhaps? Maybe you are fantasizing about all the ways you'd like to hex me at the moment?"

Draco looked down at her, trying to appear as capable and reasonable as was possible. The fact that his hair kept slipping out from behind his ears was working against him slightly, but overall, he thought this was going quite well. He moved to sit on what he realised was an over-sized bed for a little girl, but he rather liked the distance it put between their bodies. Now that he was sitting somewhat comfortably, he continued, "You see, the reason that I'm here, and you should really be quite flattered, after all - it's not like I made this decision lightly - is, well -"

He paused and looked around her room without really seeing. He hadn't spoken this plan aloud to anyone yet, hadn't even thought about it if he was with anyone at all. It was absurd. It could ruin everything and potentially cost him his very life. If the Dark Lord knew where he was right now, that would be it. Well, after a great deal of torture, surely. Draco shook his head. His mind was made up - no reason to dally.

"Granger, I need you to do this for me. No one else will do. This is the only way. I-" He paused to turn back to the body in the middle of the bed only to be met by the business end of Granger's wand.

"What, Malfoy? Spit it out, already!"

Draco looked up at her, as she had come to kneel before him on her bed. He heaved a great sigh, and said, "I'm defecting. I need you to arrange a meeting with the Order of the Phoenix, as I am told your side is called."

Granger looked absolutely befuddled, but her grip on her wand tightened. "You want me to walk a known junior Death Eater into headquarters? I know you don't like me, Malfoy, but I thought we could both agree that I was quicker than that."

"Well, eventually I'll have to see it, if I'm going to give up any useful information, but for now, if you could just owl McGonagall-"

"Professor McGonagall, Malfoy," she said as she ground her teeth.

"Whoever, Granger. I don't care! Just someone who understands what I have to offer and is reasonable."

"As if you've got anything to offer."

The tip of her wand found its way under his chin. The point was rather abrasive on his delicate skin, but he persevered. Moments of silence stretched between them, until finally she couldn't take it anymore.

"How did you get in here?"

Draco turned away. "I Confunded your mother before you left the house earlier and came inside before you put the wards up."

"How did you know where I live?"

Her tone was angry, but a little worried, dare he say scared, too.

"My father was on the Board of Governors before-"

"-Before attacking a group of school children in the Department of Mysteries?"

Draco fought to keep a hold of his temper. He'd forgotten that she had been there. Fuck.

"We are getting off track! Try to focus, Granger. I'm defecting."

"You can't defect from something you aren't even a member of, Malfoy," Granger said, heaving an impatient sigh.

And there was her snotty, little reply. Well, he knew what would shut her up. He pushed her wand out from under his chin and stood. Then he pushed the sleeve of his robe up. He undid the pure gold cufflink, a gift from his mother for his birthday this year, and rolled up the fine linen sleeve, exposing his Dark Mark.

Beside him, Granger gasped and moved her body away from his.

Draco swallowed, his mouth watering as he exposed himself for the first time. He licked his lips and swallowed again.

His voice was barely a whisper. "It's the most disgusting thing I've seen in my life. I'd seen bits of my father's, but never the whole thing. I wish I could carve it out of my arm, Granger. You cannot imagine what this is like."

Her eyes were wide, and her head shook side to side. Ever the swot, though, she asked, "Why'd you get it, then?"

"Because, when the Dark Lord tells you over breakfast on your birthday that he's going to give you the ultimate gift, you accept it graciously, you bloody cow!"

As the last words tumbled from his lips, he was happy to see that the bit of pity that had begun to shine in her eyes was burnt up by her anger.

"You have a really interesting way of asking people for help."

"You're the one who didn't believe me." Draco looked at her. It looked like she was chewing on her tongue. She wanted to help, because that’s the way she was. It was in her Granger-the-goody-two-shoes-perfect-holier-than-thou nature. She wasn't the sort to let her petty feelings about someone come before her morals.

This was why he was here, of course.

She appeared to have come to a decision though. She pulled her eyes to his face; Draco could practically feel them dragging away from the Mark, and he watched her square herself for what she was about to say.

In his chest, his heart thumped twice as he waited for her.

"I'll need some kind of insurance."

Draco's felt light-headed and dizzy. She was going to do it! She was going to help him!

"What do you want?" he asked.

Granger's eyes flicked to his arm and then to the corner of the room. "Something that will tie you to us as strongly as you are tied to him," she muttered, mostly to herself.

Draco watched her think a moment and said, "A Wizard's Oath."

That earned him a frown. It was just about this time that he realised that this was only the first step in a very long journey, a journey that hadn't been as big a factor when he was trying to find his way out.

"Blood," Granger said, "Or... something."

He couldn't contain his lip as it curled in displeasure. "I would prefer to..."

"Not get your hands dirty?" Granger finished for him, her eyes rolling.

Draco was extremely frustrated at this point. He wanted to grab her and shake her. She had no idea, none, of what he was going through. She made it sound as if he was some lazy priss who couldn't be arsed.

"Don't grind your teeth; it'll ruin them."

"Merlin's balls, Granger! You are really difficult, do you know that? I'm trying to defect from the most evil wizard in a hundred years, and you're harping on my teeth! You don't fucking get it. I'm pure. I'm descended from countless wizards, back to bloody Merlin himself! I'm the epitome of what is right in this world! Well-bred, well-heeled. I don't know what bloody Muggles might have that could begin to compare.

"Oh! I've got it. For you, Granger. This is like someone put a dung-bomb in the first Gutenberg Bible. That's a big bloody deal to you, isn't it?

"My father has been protecting my purity for my whole life, as purity has been guarded throughout our history! He said I'd never need this,” Draco paused to bring his forearm closer to her. “He said he'd make the world safe for all the purest things. Now it's besmirched! Do you fucking get it? Something has to be done!"

Granger's head whipped to look at her bedroom door as Draco's rant got louder and louder. She was staring wide-eyed at it, probably expecting her parents to come barging in.

"I silenced the room, Granger. I know you don't like me, but I thought we could both agree that I was quicker than that."

Her response was to stick her tongue out at him and rake her fingers through her hair. She shook it out, and the light caught the shiniest bits, distracting Draco for a moment. Almost as an aside, Granger announced, "I don't believe you're that pure. Rumour has it that you've had your way with quite a few girls in Slytherin House."

"Don't be lewd, Granger."

A disbelieving snort was her reply as she walked to pull her trunk away from the window.

He shouldn't be surprised that she would know such lurid rumours. He looked her, half dressed in Muggle shorts and some sort of top that left little to the imagination. She was bent over now, moving books around in her trunk, looking for something they could use, Draco assumed.

In fact - he'd never seen so much of a witch in his entire life. Sure, his friends had pilfered some magazines they'd found in their fathers' libraries, but Draco hadn't looked at those. Purity was the key to his life, and pure he would remain.

At last, she moved back to her bed with three books held in her hands. She was in research mode; he'd seen this before.

"You know, if you are a virgin," she began, in a tone that clearly implied she didn't believe it, "I could just take your virginity as a devotion to me. That would be good enough for the Order."

Draco was shocked. She wanted to perform sex magic? He couldn't believe it. His mind stammered, and his heart began to race.

Apparently, his mouth was stammering, too. He looked over at her to find she was smiling at him. It was an honest, unguarded smile, like Potty and Weasel usually received. She set the books down on her bed and stood up to take the couple steps between them.

"You really are a virgin. That's..."

Draco shut his eyes. Many boys in his class had earned a masculine reputation by being with girls, and many of the lesser of his classmates were mocked for perceived lack of prowess.

No one mocked a Malfoy, though, not if they wanted to avoid getting hexed.

"That's brilliant." Granger sighed and smiled at him some more.

He could see the wheels and cogs of her mind working ever faster. She seemed very excited about this opportunity, perhaps too excited.

Draco tamped down the exhilarating thrill that had been bubbling up inside of him and asked, "Been performing sex magic with many, Granger?"

That earned him another slap on the cheek, and he was transported for a moment back in time. Granger was strong and stung like a viper. These were some of the other reasons he'd elected her for this.

"Not that it's any of your business, Malfoy, but I have dabbled with sex magic with a very exclusive few."

"So, you're not a virgin."

"Not technically."

Relief flooded through his veins, although his cheek was beginning to throb where she'd hit him. "Good. I don't know what would have happened if I spilt your blood."

In response, she rolled her eyes and flounced to her trunk. She pulled out one parchment and went to the window at the opposite end of the room. She looked out at something and nodded her head.

"Lucky for us, tonight's the solstice. Let's get this over with."

Draco watched her, and while her initial excitement didn't return, she did seem excited about what was about to happen.

Granger took a deep breath and rolled her shoulders before laying out her instructions. "Move over to the bed and take off your clothes."

One look at her face and he knew she meant it. Draco conjured a hanger that floated in mid-air and began to remove his clothes. He shut his eyes to try to keep his composure, but she wouldn't let him stay like that.

"You have to look at me, it's part of the magic."

As she said that, the room seemed to dim around them so that, for him, she was the only properly lit thing in his view. Had she cast a spell when he wasn't looking?

Draco removed the robe and put it on the hanger. Another one appeared and he began to unbutton his shirt, all the while looking Granger in the eyes.

"Why are you giving me your purity, Draco?"

The use of his first name stopped his motions for a moment, but then he realised that this, too, was part of the spell.

"I give you the power of my purity to rid the world of the impure."

He pulled the shirttails from his trousers and hung the fine linen shirt on the hanger that was waiting. He toed off his shoes and moved them to rest under his robes. His socks were next, and he rolled them up together before setting them inside his shoe. His belt followed, looped in itself and placed in the other shoe.

As his hands went to the button on his trousers, he saw Granger lick her lips. He felt light-headed, and almost missed her soft voice when she said, "You forsake an oath to another. You cannot forsake this oath."

No. Unlike the Dark Mark, which would fade at the true demise of the Dark Lord, Granger would have this hold over him for all his days.

"I give you the power of my purity for all my life."

Granger watched him expectantly. He dropped his trousers to the floor, and she inhaled deeply. He was aware that his prick was hard, it had been since she'd expressed how impressed she was by his purity.

"Y-you're not wearing pants." Hermione stammered and blushed but did not look away from his cock.

"I never wear pants. Do we have to start the spell over?" Draco held his trousers out, unsure whether to fold them or put them on again.

"No. I was just surprised."

Draco smirked. He might not have had sex with many any witches, but he knew that many would be happy to come to his bed if he so chose. The way Granger was staring at his body gave her attraction away entirely. Draco licked his lips and looked at her, regaining his proud posture as he settled into his space. It was strange being nude when Granger was not, but surely that wouldn't last. "Now what?"

"Undress me, and say your bit."

His bit? He didn't know what to say! This was her idea, wasn't it? And how was he supposed to undress her? Her top was quite tight and, although she wasn't wearing shoes, he'd never imagined taking trousers, short trousers, off of his witch. This was supposed to be happening on his wedding night, not a few days after his sixteenth birthday!

Draco took a deep breath and stepped forward. She was just millimetres away from him, and he found himself asking, "Will you keep me and ensure the success of my cause in exchange for this gift?"

Granger looked up at his face, then, and replied, "I will keep you and ensure your success."

Taking up the hem of her top, Draco slowly raised it over her head. It was soft on his fingers and warm from her body. Holding it in his right hand he moved to sniff it. It smelled of her.

He must have lost himself in the moment, because Granger cleared her throat. When Draco looked back at her, she said, "Just put it where-ever."

Draco was very confused and looked over at his robes hanging in the air. He felt as though he should fold her top as well, but then his eyes were drawn to her breasts. Before he knew what he was doing, her shirt was discarded in a ball on the floor.

"Granger, th-"

Her finger on his mouth made his prick throb, and he was nearly certain it brushed against the rough fabric of her trousers.

"Say my name," she said and pulled her finger down his lips so that the lower one was pulled open.

Draco would have liked to orgasm at that point, and if he had been wanking behind his bed curtains he certainly would have. Somehow, though, his cock managed only to surge, feeling harder and thicker than he'd ever felt it before.

He swallowed thickly. "H-Herm-mione," he stuttered, and his blood rushed through his flesh. Draco felt as if he were on fire in his humiliation.

However, her reaction was a satisfied hum, and in the next moment, Draco felt as if he were a great champion.

"My bra, Draco."

Right. Yes. That was what he was going to say before she'd touch him. Gra- Hermione's breasts were just there, right there, beckoning to him.

She'd said he could, though. He was not some perv staring at old photographs of some witch he'd never met, would never meet. No. These were his. She was letting him look.

Draco raised shaking hands behind her back. It was nearly an embrace. He felt for a tie, but didn't find one. It was a cruel joke. Draco was struck with humiliation again; fear that he'd never get her brassiere undone sped his heart in his chest.

Hermione stood up on her toes to whisper in his ear. "It's hooks, Draco. Metal under the fabric."

He'd felt the metal, unsure of the purpose, but now that he'd been given the answer, he had them undone in the blink of an eye. Her shoulders slid forward, and with it the bra, and he pushed it to the side, careless of where it fell on the floor so long as it was not in his way anymore.

Draco stood, staring at Hermione's body, her perky breasts pointing at him with ruddy nipples. He stared. While part of him was screaming that he was acting like an oaf, he couldn't pull his eyes away from them. Hermione had sunk back on her heels, and her breasts shook softly.

"Worship me."

Those words had Draco on his knees, rubbing his hands over the warmth of her body and craning up to kiss and lick the underside of her breasts. Her body turned, twisting so she could sit on the bed. That put her nipples where his mouth could have them, and before he knew what he was about, he had suckled one into his mouth.

Her fingers were in his hair, stroking and petting him, and Draco was shocked: he felt safe for the first time in many days. He looked up at her, and their eyes met. He was lost in her then.

Her nipple pulled away from his mouth, but he did not turn away from her deep brown eyes. Then, the other nipple, warm and dry touched his cheek. He brought it to his mouth, sucking and rolling his tongue around it.

Draco watched as her head fell back in delight and revelled when he heard her say, "So perfect."

He had never felt so good in his entire life. But then she was pushing him away from her body, and she was standing again.

Trousers he could manage, and Draco had the button and zip done in a heartbeat. They fell to the floor, and Hermione stepped out of them, kicking them to the side. She was wearing knickers, yellow knickers, which looked phenomenal against her skin.

Draco began stroking her thighs, squeezing the backs as he rubbed his cheeks on her knickers.

"Are you ready for more, Draco?"

She was smoothing his hair back out of his face again, and Draco pulled his hands up to peel her knickers away. He held them, thumbs against the first two fingers on both of his hands and watched as her pubic hair was revealed to him. His blood was rushing like a tide through his body, his arms moving automatically to get her knickers down her calves to her ankles.

When Hermione lifted her feet to kick them away, Draco could see the most hidden, secret parts of her for just a moment. He moved for a closer look but Hermione was pulling on his shoulder, pulling him toward the bed.

"Lie down."

He obeyed without thought. Her bed sheets were soft on his back as he maneuvered into position. Draco watched her as she crawled over him, tickling her fingertips over his thighs, near his prick, up his chest.

"No one has ever had this."

Draco moaned and said, "No, no one, not ever."

"No one has touched your flesh." Hermione's hand went flat on his ribs, her palm pressed flat over his nipple.

"Gods, no!" Draco was now pushing his hips up into the empty air, longing for something to push against him.

Then her hand traced up his neck and over his chin. Three of her fingertips trembled over his mouth, and she stared down at him. Her hair curtained their faces, obstructing the rest of the world, and Draco nearly forgot why he was here at all except for those brown eyes and this woman who was hovering above him.

"Say it again."

"I give you the power of my purity to rid the world of the impure. I give you the power of my purity for all my life."

"Even here?" Hermione asked, tracing his lips now.

Draco was lost to lust, and he licked her fingers as he nodded again.

And then her skin was on his. Her thighs on his thighs, her chest on his chest. Her sweet quim was just above him, as if embracing the head of his prick.

"You forsake an oath to another. You cannot forsake this oath."

Her mouth was just above his, her words breathed into his mouth.

"Keep me and ensure my success," Draco muttered into hers.

Down below, Draco could feel Hermione aligning herself.

"You give me your purity. I will keep you."

The world exploded, then. She pushed herself down his prick as she pushed her tongue into his mouth. Draco let out an unsophisticated grunt, and then his hands were on her hips. Her skin was soft and hot, and her flesh yielded to his grip.

She was moaning with him now, her pitch climbing as he gave her more and more. He wanted to never stop; she was so, so perfect. Everything in his world was lost as he pressed up into her and their tongues danced together.

And then, like a burst of white light, his body shot into her. He realised he was coming sooner than she might like, but he couldn't care. It was his first orgasm in something besides his hand. This! This was beyond all he could have imagined in the world. Draco sucked her tongue and moaned as the final pulses of bliss faded.

His body lay flat, sunken into her bed, and Hermione pulled her mouth away from his. They were both breathing heavily, and Draco let his eyes open so he could take her in.

She was gorgeous: flushed pink with life and hair tumbling in a riotous nest of curls. Hermione rolled away from him, and Draco whined as his softening prick fell from inside her.

He longed to return. ...In a few minutes.

After taking a couple of minute to catch her breath, Hermione's hands moved to the top of her thighs, and she cupped her fingers there. Draco sat up slightly and watched her. In her left hand was a small puddle of their combined juices that she'd pulled from her core. She sat up carefully and twisted to face him.

"Give me the mark," she whispered.

A chill ran down his spine, and Draco wanted to pull back. He'd forgotten all about that. However, Hermione was looking at him as if he had no choice, so he extended his left arm, holding the palm of his hand up to her as if in offering.

That's when she turned the contents of her left hand over and smeared it across his mark. Her hand stopped just over his wrist where his skin was clear and gripped him.

"How do you feel?" Hermione asked as she swiped some of his hair behind his ear with her free hand.

"...Good," Draco replied and felt the gravity of life come back to him. He looked around the room, licking his lips, trying to figure out how to say the next bit.

Hermione was still holding his wrist, and her other hand was resting softly on his neck. She was watching him, waiting for him, it felt like.

Draco pulled his legs up and leaned toward her. "Do we have to go immediately?"

And then she was smiling at him, beaming it felt like. "We can go in the morning, if you prefer."

That's when Draco's hand grabbed her wrist in return, and he pulled her to him, wrapping her tight in his arms. "Perfect"


	2. Chapter 2

Draco’s life had turned into a steaming pile of blast-ended skrewt dung. He barely knew what he was doing from minute to minute, let alone right now, when he was sneaking into the Hogwarts infirmary. He couldn’t believe he was going to search her out after what she’d done the morning after. Just before dawn, Hermione had stroked his cheeks and kissed him awake. Then she told them that her contact was there and ready for him.

Oh, he could remember the exact look of hope and joy on her face. The damned naïve… _witch_! She’d passed him off to Snape straight out of her delicious bed. If she weren’t such a virtuous, believe-the-best-of-everyone sort, Draco would have thought she was setting him up.

And so he’d gone home with Snape, gone back to the Dark Lord, and ultimately been given a great task. Draco felt like he couldn’t trust anyone, least of all Snape. _Did she not fucking know he was a Death Eater? How was that even possible! Snape had made her life, and Potter’s life, …and practically_ everyone’s _lives miserable for forever._

Of course, all he had had to say was, “There are greater works afoot than you realise, Draco. Although I did find this quite _enlightening_.”

Yes. Enlightening. Snape probably couldn’t wait to _enlighten_ the Dark Lord when the mood struck.

And that’s how he’d got here. He had a mission, and he was going to accomplish that mission. And he didn’t fucking care that he kept screwing it up. He especially didn’t care that Hermi- _Granger_ was sitting at the Weasel’s side, sniffling like the pathetic kicked puppy that she was. So what if she was frequently in the library after hours when he snuck in to research? So what if bread and apples appeared in his bag after their joint classes? It didn’t matter that she always seemed to be there when he needed to find her, not in the least.

Focusing on closing the infirmary door without making a noise brought Draco out of his snowballing thoughts. It did him very little good to think about anything but his mission any more. But there was something about her, something magnetic about Granger, that he couldn’t help looking for her. And… as he’d possibly just poisoned her best friend, Draco felt the polite thing to do was check.

Check to make sure Worthless Weasley, the blood-traitor, wasn’t dead.

From his hidden spot in the shadows beside the door, Draco could see the sheet was tucked under his horrid, freckled arms. If he listened closely, he thought he could make out snoring as well.

_Very well, then. No dead Weasels. Time to go._

“The damage caused by grinding your teeth is nearly unfixable and entirely preventable.” Granger's words preceded her across the room. Opening his eyes, Draco saw that she was now just out of arm's reach, standing in front of him. Her eyes appraised him, and the more she looked, the deeper her frown grew. “You need to eat more.”

“Piss off, Granger. You’re not my mum.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled at him. “No, I should hope not.”

There was a satisfied smile spreading across her face, the same as that night. Draco tried to hold his resolve to hate her, fucking hate the bitch who’d promised to keep him and then passed him right back into the hands of darkness. He couldn’t. She had spoken but five words, but Draco was transported to that night in her room, in her bed.

Merlin! He didn’t have an ally in the world anymore, and here he was, standing at the edge of a cliff with this foolish Mudblood again.

Granger's fingers, so small and soft, took his hand and led him to a nearby hospital bed. She pulled the curtain and cast a few spells for privacy. Then she sat in the middle and tugged his arm until he was sitting beside her. She did _not_ let go of his hand after he was settled.

Out of nowhere it seemed, she turned to him and whispered, “I really like Professor Snape for DADA. I think he’s the best we’ve had, better than Lupin even.”

“DADA is bollocks,” Draco said, trying to figure out how to implicate Snape, and his anger for her in his next sentence. “Anyone who thinks those poncy spells or the poncy wizard teaching them is worth anything is duller than Longbottom.”

Draco stared straight in front of him, working his jaw but not pressing his teeth together. He didn’t need to be lectured on fractured teeth on top of everything else.

“Really? I think Professor Snape’s _brilliant_ , more than most know.”

“Oh? I think you have no bloody idea about Snape!” Draco flinched when he realised how loud his voice had become.

Herm- _Granger_ let go of his fingers then, but moved to pet the back of his hand. She watched what she was doing, and then, she smiled up at him.

“ _I_ think that some things that happen around here are meant to happen, and others are not. Like when you think you want to go to the fifth floor, and the stairs take you to the second.”

“Bloody hell! Now you sound like Trelawney!” Draco looked back at her, and she scrunched her nose up in distaste with the very idea of it. The silence was tense for a moment, and then they both pulled faces and broke into near-silent laughter.

That was the end of Draco’s composure, though. The next moment the tears in his eyes weren’t from laughter, and Hermione was scooting back and patting her thigh. He lay down in her lap. Her ratty denims were soft on Draco’s cheek, and she combed her fingers through his hair while he cried. Draco felt like he should be humiliated, but it was such a relief to finally purge all of his frustrations and terrors that he had no room for embarrassment.

He wept for a few minutes, even taking a scrap of fabric Hermione passed to him at some point and wiped his face. Once he felt like he was empty, Draco rolled to his back and looked up at her. He wanted to confess everything, and he opened his mouth to do so. He was thwarted when her fingers covered his lips, and her head shook softly ‘no’.

“I can’t know. You know that.”

Draco scowled up at her. _Dammit! She was supposed to… to… help him! To rid the world of impurity!_

She seemed to be reading his mind because she looked away then, scowling like she had that night when she needed an idea. She was silent for a long time, still combing her fingers through his hair, when finally it came to her.

“I believe you must do this... task. Just like the stairs will take you where they want, the castle will help you if you let it. I know you, Draco, and you can achieve whatever you set your mind to.”

Draco fiddled with the edge of the hanky. “I don’t think… I can’t do _all_ of it. I’ve tried, and it’s not worked.” She couldn’t dispute that, could she? Not with Weasley recovering a few yards away.

“Failure is only proof that you’ve tried the wrong thing and that you should try something else. Maybe work back from the goal, like in a maze. I know you can reason this out, Draco.”

Draco closed his eyes and let the words and her comfort soak into him. “If you knew what it was, you wouldn’t want me to solve it. You’d hate me if you knew.”

The silence stretched out for a while before she whispered, “I will never hate you.”

“Never say ‘never,’ Granger.” Draco moved to sit up but a little tug on his hair prevented him. Then her hand was flat on his chest, as if she could hold him down. His heart pounded in his chest; he stared up at her, barely able to blink.

“I know you, Draco Malfoy. Your purity is mine. You came to _me_ , not anyone else, so don’t lay there and tell me I don’t know!”

He was shocked. Hermione was standing up to him about _him_. It was the oddest thing he’d ever known. It made him feel strange, and all he wanted to do was kiss her.

So that’s what Draco did. Giving into a desire he’d denied since laying eyes on Snape that first morning, Draco pulled Hermione’s head down to his and pressed their mouths together. Then his tongue was in her mouth, and hers was pushing back. He felt his prick swell twice as fast as it usually did. Her hair was curtaining them, her fingers trembling on his chest, and her surprised squeaks spurred him on. Draco Malfoy needed keeping, and he knew just who he wanted.

One thing niggled at his mind, though. She hadn’t ‘technically’ been a virgin the last time. Even as the supplicant, a word he now knew the meaning of quite well, the idea of her with any other boy made him very jealous. He had to know if she’d been… _keeping_ anyone else. Draco pulled away, twisting to sit on the bed again, facing her now. How to go about asking this very awkward question? He wasn’t sure, hadn’t determined the best way, and her mouth was very distracting, following his as it was.

At last he took her hands in his and kissed her ear. “Hermione?” She pulled back to look at his face and smiled that brilliant smile. “I—well, I mean – I know that… And you’re in Gryffindor, so – Probably, but…” Draco stammered, finishing his ramblings with a disgusted look on his face. He couldn’t imagine her with any of the blokes in Gryffindor, or really anyone but him, or maybe Weasley, _maybe_. Still he had to know. He tried to form the question, but she answered him before he could get there.

“No one since you, if that’s what you mean.”

O! She was so prim and so fucking smug, and Draco wanted to wipe that smile off her face. How could she take what he wanted to hear most, and turn it into her little thing to hold over his head like that? As if she was constantly rejecting other suitors in favour of him. With that bushy hair, no one probably wanted her. Not that he wanted anyone to, but now she just seemed so much more… sacred.

And that was Draco’s last thought as she pressed her mouth into his again, taking her time to kiss him and tease him with her tongue. She twisted on the infirmary bed and pulled Draco down beside her. Then her hands were all over his body, and he, being so strung out and nervous, was suddenly so _hungry_ for her that he didn’t know what to do with himself.

He opted for matching her moves. If she was going to take liberties with his body, than he would follow suit. Draco took her arse in one hand, and squeezed as he rubbed his crotch against hers.

“This bed is too small. Why don’t you wear a bloody skirt like a witch?” Draco whispered as he pulled her thigh over his.

Hermione pulled on his tie, loosening as she sniped back. “This isn’t a bed; it’s a glorified table, and since you’re a _wizard_ , why don’t you transfigure a skirt if that’s what you want!”

Draco's hand clenched in frustration as she spoke. She was being a complete priss, but she was also breathless and working to get him naked. Hermione had made short work of opening his school shirt, pulling it from his trousers. It was now only impeded by his tie, which she was tugging at. His head jerked forward a little each time, and Draco grabbed her hand to stop her.

He twisted, pushing her so that she was on her back. The heat of her body wafted up against his chest, and Draco smiled. From the look on her face, Hermione hadn't expected to find herself in this position. Her dilated pupils and kissed-plump lips made him feel like the master of the universe, and his prick, freshly sprung from his trousers by her quick hands, bobbed between them. Draco was ready.

After last time, he knew he wanted to do a better job. In retrospect, Draco felt he'd failed at endurance, let alone at bringing her off. This time he'd do a proper job of it, even if it killed him.

He moved so that he was sitting over her hips, prick falling out over the open fly of his trousers. "I am going to make you moan tonight," Draco whispered. His fingers were working the buttons of her shirt now. He got to her school tie, loosened it, and it fell to the floor. His followed. Her shirt. His shirt. Snogging.

Draco loved snogging. He'd snogged other girls before, but there was something about her tongue, _her_ little squeaks and sighs, which made him feel ...hotter. His blood pounded for Hermione.

Pulling back from her mouth, Draco smiled and licked his lips. Looking into her eyes, he moved to kneel between her thighs. Her skin was hot on his lips when he kissed down her neck. Next, and this was a moment Draco thought about frequently, he put his mouth to her breasts. They were soft but firm, nipples dark against her areolas which were darker still from her beautiful, smooth skin. With his mouth relaxed, Draco covered her nipple and kissed it. 

She liked it. Her humming approval was followed by her hands in his hair. She was holding him in place, her breast pushed up into his mouth. Draco sucked more in, and her back arched, pushing her core closer to his prick. Hermione's hands fell away from him, falling up by her head as if she was surrendering. This was his opportunity to move to the other side, pulling as much of her breast as he could get into his mouth.

"Oh, Draco, yes!"

He pulled back at the sound of her voice. It was so raw, part pleading and part praising. They looked at each other for a moment, Draco feeling light and perfect under her gaze.

"Good?" he asked, palming her breasts as he knelt back on his heels.

"So good, Draco. You're so good."

Hermione's hands covered his and squeezed, encouraging him to massage her breasts, but Draco wasn't only thinking about her pleasure any more. Her words had sent a spike of adrenaline to his heart. She looked into his eyes, and he looked into hers. Draco desperately wanted her to think of him as good, in bed and everywhere else.

Did she know? Could she? Did she mean it as he wanted it too?

Draco felt dizzy, lust and stress and panic whirling in his blood. That's when Hermione blinked slowly and licked her lips. The next moment they were snogging again. Chest against chest, Hermione's nipples cool from his saliva in the night air. But she was soft and pliable underneath him. Her hands went around his back; one hand pressed up and the other down. Draco became frantic to get their trousers off.

Their mouths broke apart and came together as they wriggled to get naked. When they were finally pushed off the end of the bed, Hermione's legs were split to accommodate his hips, and the tip of Draco's prick was just centimetres from Hermione's sex.

He pushed the hair away from her forehead and smiled. "Only me, Hermione?"

Hermione's lips pressed together, and she nodded. It was a simple move, but Draco loved the sparkle in her eyes. He pushed into her, and then smiled. Her breath caught, and Draco realised he was holding his breath as well. Pulling back for another stroke in, and they both groaned.

"Dra-a-co-o!"

Now her nails were in his back, and Draco moaned with pleasure. It took all he had to keep from pounding into her, but he had promised himself he'd go slowly. If he ever got to again, he'd go slow with her and let her know. His mouth fell to her ear. "Oh, Hermione." Pumping in-out-in, Draco licked her ear. "I need you." As he spoke, her hands flattened and pulled him closer. Draco found a smooth steady rhythm. "Keep me, Hermione. Please."

She was nodding, pushing her hips up to meet him. He couldn't let her do that though; months without her had made him desperate for her, and he would not have a poor showing this time. He pushed away from her, pulling her thighs up to his hips. With her body angled like that, something changed, and Hermione was arching, moaning wantonly. She looked up at him, surprise clear in her face.

Draco knew what he had to do and knelt back, using both hands to pull her legs around him. Having her in his hands like that, Draco felt much more in control. He was watching himself slide in and out. As he was watching, Draco noticed something he'd heard about in the dorms. He moved his thumb up Hermione's thigh and over to her centre. A quick flick of his thumb, and his suspicions were confirmed. Hermione tensed around him, her thighs tight on his sides, and her quim tight on his shaft.

They both moaned. Draco kept at it, brushing his thumb back and forth over it. He couldn't quite manage getting it in time with his hips, but it didn't seem to matter. Soon Hermione was tense and quivering, moaning. Draco thrust into her hard as her body came apart around him. He was in complete and utter bliss. His thumb ran back and forth, almost as if he was seeking out his own climax. Perhaps he was, since every time she clenched around him, Draco got dizzy and closer to his own peak.

Out of nowhere, Hermione pulled his hand away from her centre, pulling him to lie on top of her. She looked up into her eyes and whispered, "Come for me, Draco."

Not needing to be told twice, Draco began pounding into her, seeking out that moment of perfection that he'd felt in her bed. Before he knew it, he was grunting and tense, shooting into her. Then, his elbows gave out, and he landed on her. His forehead was on her shoulder, back bowed so that he could stay safe inside of her for as long as he could.

She let him stay there until he caught his breath. They smelled like they had that night, and Draco felt so safe and whole again. Finally, he rolled to his side, grabbing Hermione's hip and turning her so that she would face him.

He was so tired; it was all he could do to keep his eyes open and looking at her.

Hermione yawned and gave him a shy grin. Then, as if remembering something, she reached between her legs and cupped her hand there. The same as last time, she pulled some of their joined fluids into her hand, and smeared it over the Dark Mark.

Staring at his arm, Draco asked, "Why do you do that?"

She shrugged. "Why do we do anything?"

Draco frowned. He didn't like that answer. He wanted her to have a reason.

Licking her lips, Hermione said, "It felt like I had to last time, as part of the ritual. This was like the ritual, don't you think. Different, but not." Then she shivered in the night air, and Draco pulled her close.

"I can look at it now," he said. "I couldn't at first. Now, when I remember that night, I remember you doing that, and I can look at it."

Hermione smiled at him then, and it was smug, as if she had led him to an answer she'd known all the time.

Feeling that way made Draco smile, and he pinched her bum. Hermione squealed, and her body pressed forward to escape his fingers. He grabbed her then, and she felt small in his arms. Hers soon coiled around him as well.

"I know I have no right to demand anything, Hermione, but could you please... not..." Draco's words caught in his throat, and he was immediately embarrassed by what had tumbled out of his mouth.

She looked at him, eyes bright in the light and hair a silken mess. "Of course. I'm knackered, let's try to sleep a bit." Then Draco felt a blanket coming up over them, and Hermione was turning around in his arms so that her back was against his chest.

It would be the first time Draco slept since the last time he'd been curled around Hermione. When he woke, he was full of inspiration for getting through the task before him.


	3. Chapter 3

Draco Apparated to a back alley in Muggle London. He had to find Granger and get this all straightened out.

He also had to do it so that neither her bloody friends nor the Prophet would find out. As far as he knew, their little... ‘secret’ was still just that.

So, he tracked her a bit and found out she would be with some of her Muggle friends at this nightclub. There was a line out the door and around the building to get in.

Draco’s lip curled in disgust. His father had told him about these places, where Muggles would go and rut against each other like the animals they were.

Shaking his head, Draco tried to clear away his father’s prejudices. Where had that gotten the Malfoy patriarch? Another decade in Azkaban—that was where—although it was much less uncomfortable now, thanks to a bit of campaigning by none other than Granger, herself.

Draco didn’t have time to wait, though, so he slipped around back and Disillusioned himself, carefully creeping in through the back door into the small, greasy kitchen and out past the bar. When he got to the main part of the establishment, he couldn’t believe his eyes.

 _Or ears!_ The rhythmic bass was pounding even louder than it had been outside, and those not on the dance floor succumbed to the demands of the music. Draco scanned the crowd along the walls, hoping against hope that she wasn’t in the throng of people. As he looked again and again and didn’t see her, a second feeling of urgency began to heat his blood.

He hated to admit how jealous he’d become lately when he would see her or read about her in the news media. It did him very little good, since he was here to resolve a little issue so he could marry Astoria Greengrass, but Draco knew that a part of him – the best part of him in fact – thought of himself as Granger’s, and Granger as _his_.

Draco flexed his hands, resisting the urge to use magic to find his quarry. That’s when he saw her. On the dance floor, away from the speakers but still staunchly in the mass of... _people_. She was dancing with a bloke, if you could call the subtle, snake-like undulations they were both making ‘dancing.’

She looked like a goddess. Granger’s back was bare except for two lengths of glittering chains crossing between her shoulder blades. They were attached to a bright white drape of satin that covered her bosom. Her belly was exposed, however, and Draco almost couldn’t keep himself from gaping at her skin-tight black trousers.

He saw red for a moment, and the next, his wand was in his hand as every door was blown open and every rutting pair was separated by the gust of wind he’d generated.

It only lasted for a moment, but Granger had come out of the trance-like state she was in at the first sign of magic. As her partner tried to pull her back in, she shook her head and made a motion with her hand as if she were drinking. She turned away from the dance floor, striding and looking about.

Draco waited for her to see him, not inappropriately dressed for this... establishment. When her eyes fell upon him at last, she actually smiled.

He would never forget for all his days the way his heart skipped.

She didn’t run to hug him, or any such thing as he’d seen her do with her friends over the years. However, she did come within arm’s reach, as though they weren’t enemies, but lost lovers.

Draco realised she was trying to speak to him, but he couldn’t hear her over the music. He grabbed her hand and led her out of the front door, past the bouncer who didn’t seem to notice them.

Once they were in the alley he’d Apparated to, Draco released her hand. Out in the warm night air, he could think, again, and remember.

“Granger, we have a problem.”

She looked at him, and then her eyes traced down over his body. He was wearing a very thin shirt, dark grey with a slight sheen. “You look quite nice, Draco. Hot date tonight?”

“I am dressed like this because I need to speak to you away from everyone, and this Muggle place was the best option. We have to discuss the night we...”

“The night you gave yourself to me.” She smiled and put her hand on his chest, touching the smooth fabric there. “What’s the matter, then?”

“Well, I’m trying to get married—”

“What? To whom? Merlin, can’t they just let you have a little life for yourself!?”

“Astoria Greengrass, and no, not with my father locked away. I’m the next in line to inherit, and I have to be married to do so, which is why everyone is quite confounded as to why my betrothal papers are unable to be signed!”

“Why can’t you sign them? What has that to do with me?”

“I can sign them all I like, but the ink just vanishes. This would only happen if I were otherwise unable to married.”

“Why wouldn’t you be able to be married? You’re twenty years old, what could you have possibly done—oh.”

“Yes, ‘oh’. Now, I’ve been reviewing my memories from that night with a pensieve, Granger, and I think I have the issue. What did you mean when you said you weren’t ‘technically’ a virgin?”

He watched her worry her lip, then, and look suddenly very guilty, indeed.

“Well, I had broken my hymen, you see, with my wand and imbued its magical properties into my wand itself. I had thought about doing it for Harry’s¬—”

“Stop! Stop right there. I will not listen to you talk about Potter’s... wand.” This had been a thorn in Draco’s side since the end of the war. The git had tried to return Draco’s wand after he’d defeated Voldemort, but of course, Draco’s wand had now chosen Harry as its master. The tosser now had _three_ wands at his disposal, and Draco had had to go back Ollivander’s like a _child_ and get a new one. It didn’t matter that he liked it better than the first, the whole ordeal was just... unpleasant.

To think of Hermione’s maidenhead giving Potter even more power...

“Well, I’m saying that I did _not_ do that, am I not? I decided to keep _my_ power for _my_ self. And it was a bloody good thing, too, what with Harry doing every foolish thing along the way.”

Draco looked at her in the Muggle lamplight. She was shorter than he remembered, but still had wild hair that crackled with energy. Her body was glistening from her exertions, and her ensemble was very enticing.

He cleared his throat. “Then I need to know, Hermione, who took your actual virginity. The maidenhead is just one part.”

She smiled up at him. It was small and sweet. Then she winked.

Draco’s heart soared while his stomach sank. “Me? You gave your virginity to _me_?”

“Yes. What kind of a slag do you think I am?” Her hand slapped his chest, and now that fierceness was in her eyes.

“I don’t! Merlin’s pants, Granger! I just thought... Weasley? I don’t know. I didn’t think!”

She took a deep breath and said through her teeth. “You’ll recall Ronald was with Lavender Brown, I believe.”

“I thought you two had that all sorted. That’s what the papers like to say.”

“Well, isn’t that a lovely little story for them. The Golden Trio, plus Ginny, all paired off.”

Hermione was turning away from him now, looking irritated. Draco didn’t want that, not at all. He slid his hand down her arm, going so far as to pull her into his body. “I have to intrude on your privacy again, Hermione. I need to know who you’ve been with since... we... in the hospital wing.”

Draco was humiliated by his stammering at the end, but that seemed to soften her edges, so he could put his own embarrassment aside. Her hand lifted and rested on his chest, but she didn’t look at him.

After a long moment, she said, “No one. I haven’t been with anyone but you, Draco.”

That’s when his blood ran cold. Draco’s worst fears had been realised. He tightened his arms around her, holding her captive for the moment although she didn’t realise it yet. “What about... well, I saw how you were dancing with that bloke.”

As his words sunk in, Hermione turned her angry glare upon him. “Sod off, Malfoy! What I do is no business of yours!”

He held her as she began to struggle. “Oh, but it is. You don’t think it’s odd that you’ve never taken another to your bed, _Granger_? Or should I say... Malfoy?”

She froze, then, and Draco curled his arms more tightly around her.

“You think that— Because we— No. I don’t believe it.”

“You had better believe it. The ceremonies are all well and good, but when the pure Malfoy heir beds a virgin, she becomes his bride. Perhaps if we hadn’t at school, there could have been some question, but that’s not the case. How else can you explain your troubles with Weasley, or your failed attempts at promiscuity?”

“Muggles don’t believe in virgin marriage any more, Malfoy. Not that I would sleep with any of the men in there, I assure you my assets are well protected. I always charm my outfits to keep my ‘ _virtue_ ’ intact.”

“You think so. Your chastity charms wouldn’t work on me, I assure you.”

“Is that so?”

Draco knew her charm-work was good, but he knew his family magic was stronger. “I’ll bet you a sickle.”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed. “Fine. Go on, then.”

Draco pulled away from her body just enough to slide his hands down her back to her sides. With his thumbs around the front of her ribs, he slipped them beneath the drape of fabric that hid her breasts until he touched the warm, soft skin within.

“Draco?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“Apparate us to your flat, Hermione.”

She stepped into his body, wrapping her arms around him, and Apparated them away. When they were inside her house she stepped back, disconnecting them completely. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I couldn’t have imagined. I didn’t mean to—”

Draco watched as she started to pace the foyer of her flat. She was mumbling quickly to herself, but he had a hard time following along. The pads of his thumbs tingled with want for her, and something inside of him snapped.

He reached out and took her hand, pulling her so that he could press her body against the door with his palm. Without ceremony, he lifted her top up to reveal her breasts. “I’m not a little boy who needs you to solve my problems any more. You made me a man, and I’d very much like to show you what that means.”

Hermione looked up at him, her eyes dilated and her nostrils flared. Her chest was heaving, and when she nodded, Draco covered her breasts with his hands. Then he sealed his mouth over hers, pressing his tongue into her mouth. It had been years since he’d tasted her on that stolen night. She was perfect, her lips like heaven.

Draco pushed his thigh between hers, and then with one hand on her arse pulled her into the position he’d first found her in on the dance floor. “I was so jealous of that Muggle tonight when I first saw you. I thought I was losing my mind,” he whispered and then began kissing her again. “Tell me what it was like... with him.”

“Nothing like this, Draco, please.” Hermione put her fingers through his hair and pulled his mouth down to hers.

“How? How is this, Hermione?”

“I’m so turned on right now. With anyone else, it’s nice, I suppose, but you...” She ground down on his thigh and her breasts pressed against his chest.

Both his hands moved over her arse, squeezing and pulling their cores together. “I _know_. Where’s your bed?”

“Upstairs,” she said, pulling away. “But Draco, you’re engaged.”

“I will worry about my fiancée after I shag my wife, if you please.” Part of him was thrilled with how the night was going: the dark, hidden part of him that only came out in his deepest fantasies.

He had never had any fantasies of being a ladies’ man; he’d never wanted to bed every witch who batted her eyes in his direction. Draco had always taken pride in the fact that he would marry the right witch, and that would be that.

He could not have guessed that the ‘right witch’ would be Hermione bloody Granger, but he would not complain one bit. He watched her as she led him upstairs, her arse swaying back and forth in front of his face. The tight black trousers were very flattering, and Draco noticed that her black boots blended in almost seamlessly.

It was a very erotic trek up the stairs for him, and when he stepped up the last one, Draco moved to press Hermione against the wall once more. He lifted her up a bit, leveraging her hips with his, and knocking a photo to the floor. He kicked it a bit down the hall before snogging Hermione as well as he could.

She was surprisingly light and willing, and Draco felt drunk with everything that was happening. He was _married._ Hermione was _his._ There would be hell to pay in the morning, but right now she was in his arms again.

His mouth moved to her breasts, sucking one nipple than the other. Her hands worked on the buttons of his shirt. He grabbed her wrists to pull her hands away, and one hand tingled as it touched magic.

Draco lifted her hands up over her head. “What’s this?”

“It’s nothing, Draco. Please, don’t stop.”

Her voice was timid, embarrassed, almost. Something was wrong. “ _Finite Incantatem_.” Draco watched as the perfect skin melted away, revealing silvery scars. Hermione tried to pull her arm away from his grip, but he held fast.

He knew what it was before he saw it, but Draco was still shocked to see the scars. “I’m so sorry. I wanted to do something, but I was frozen. It was terrible. _I_ was terrible.”

She looked up at him, apology all over her face, and shook her head. “No, Draco! You were so scared, so... _thin_. I wished we could have taken you, too. I didn’t protect you from anything at all. You had to stay there in that horrible place!”

“Hermione, you’ve got to be joking.”

“And after everything, you risked your life to save your friend...” She was looking up at him with sad admiration in her eyes.

“Little good that did.” Draco swallowed.

Then she grabbed _his_ wrist, the left one, and moved her hand up to where his mark had been. “ _You_ are loyal to those you love, Malfoy, and that is very go— What’s _this_ , then?”

Draco had gone from being extremely turned on to feeling stoically sad to completely embarrassed all in the span of about a single minute. She had found his greatest secret, and he wasn’t exactly prepared to talk about it.

“Go on!” She pressed, tracing her thumb over the mark on his arm.

“After the Dark Lord was defeated, anyone who had his Mark experienced a... shift. From what I understand, some, his most loyal even if they weren’t alive, had their marks darken.”

“Bellatrix.”

Draco nodded. “Others, like Snape, lost theirs. Some more, some less.” He let his head fall so his mouth was by her ear: he just couldn’t look at her. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he took a deep breath before he whispered, “Some Marks shifted, showing where truest loyalties lie.”

“Your Mark changed? What is it?”

“An Ausrumba Rose... and a snake, as well, but—”

She began to chuckle, and it was the most pleased sound he had ever heard her make. “A _Hermione_ rose, Draco? _Really?_ ”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he just moved his mouth to her neck and began to lick, suck, and nibble the flesh there. They could talk about it later. Draco found the clasp of the chain holding her top on and opened it, pushing the garment to the floor. His mouth continued down over her collarbone as his hands moved to hold her hands in place over her head once more.

Something in him shifted; he wanted to have his way, and Hermione let him. As his mouth moved round to the other side of her neck, she began to purr. Somehow, Draco expected she looked like a goddess being worshipped.

Draco removed his hands from her body for a moment, and she stayed just as he’d left her. “When I have let myself think about this moment, those rare, stolen moments, sometimes I think about what marks I’d like to leave on you, and where they would be.” He pulled her earlobe between his teeth and his hand went to the button of her trousers, which had been revealed when he ended the spells. “Would you like to guess where?”

Hermione craned her neck to expose more flesh to him and sighed. “Someplace secret.”

Draco slid his hands into her trousers, his fingertips skimming over her flesh until her arse was in her hands.

“Someplace... intimate.” Hermione let her arms fall down to her sides and leaned against the wall.

Her body shifted, and her back arched. Draco let his eyes roam down her torso, almost forgetting what they were speaking of.

“I think I know,” she whispered.

Draco pulled back from her and looked at her body. He smiled, noticing he had left some marks already. “It has been many places.”

“But I know the _one_ you would want.”

“Still a bloody know-it-all,” Draco sighed, but he was curious. There _was_ one idea he went back to again and again. “Tell me.”

“I can do one better. Take off my right boot?” Hermione shifted, taking her weight off his body and moving to balance on her left foot as she offered him her right.

Draco pressed his lips together before kneeling before her. He found the zip of her boot just below her knee and began to pull the tab lower. Time slowed, his blood coursed through his veins like a crushing tide, until, finally, the boot melted away from her calf.

Her trousers were tight, but cropped well above her ankle. He could easily see what she was speaking of. It was... _gorgeous_.

A brilliant snapdragon tattoo seemed to grow from just behind the bone of her ankle on the delicate flesh inside. It was clearly magical; the brilliant scarlet blooms dangling from a spring green stem looked alive.

Before he could stop himself, Draco’s mouth was pressed against her ankle. It was her ode to him, hidden in plain sight and in a very delicate, very intimate spot. When he pulled away and looked up at her, he was taken right back to their first night. He had knelt before her then, just as he was now.

“Hermione, please.”

“Finish my boots,” she whispered with her voice full of promise.

Draco helped her slip her foot out of the boot and pushed it aside. The other boot was dispatched with great urgency and similarly tossed aside. He barely heard it clump down three stairs, as he stood, lifted her, and rushed to the room at the end of the hall.

Pushing through the door, he groaned in frustration. _It was a library!_

“The sofa, Draco, and undress, please.”

He obeyed her directions, first spreading her across the large, over-stuffed sofa, and then stepping back and ripping his clothes from his body.

As she watched, she finished undressing herself and said, “My bedroom is in the other room. Why would I want the bigger room to be the one I’m never conscious in?”

He toed his socks off and stepped forward. Draco was about to speak when her hand curled around his cock and guided him into her mouth. “Un-bloody-believable,” he managed to choke out, and a hum around his shaft was her only answer.

Draco put his hands in her hair and closed his eyes. Her hot, wet mouth slid back and forth and it was unlike anything he could think of. In fact, he couldn’t think of anything at all, only groaned and fought the urge to push in every time she pulled back.

“Did she touch you, Draco?” Hermione asked breathlessly. Her hands were still stroking him, and when he opened his eyes, she was looking up at him.

He stood there, frozen, immediately worried about what to say.

“Did she stroke your hair and press against you?”

 _She_ had. Astoria had tried to hurry the process by seducing him, all to no avail. He had put her off with excuses about the betrothal, but that hadn’t stopped her.

Still, he could hardly remember right now. Hermione’s mouth was still so close to him, and he wanted her to begin again. He nodded.

Hermione’s reaction was to lick her lips and suck him back through her lips. It felt so good, his knees buckled, and Draco fell to the floor. He rolled onto his back, and Hermione crawled over him before he could get up. “Of course she did. You are very appealing.” She traced her fingers across the breadth of his shoulders.

Draco closed his eyes, trying hard not to finish before even getting to shag Hermione. Her hands tickled down his body, and her weight shifted, and then he was inside of her. She was hot and wet and tight. Draco groaned loudly into the room.

“Say my name.”

“Hermione!” Draco’s head rolled, and he opened his eyes.

She had mounted him, and her body was perfect feminine curves over him. Their eyes met, and her hips rolled forward. Her body undulated forward as well, and then her hips rolled back. She was fucking him slowly, beautifully. “So good, Draco. Oh, gods!”

They kept up this slow, torturously perfect rhythm for some time. Then, Hermione slowed to a stop, pinning him in place with a level gaze. She licked her lips and said, “No one has ever had this.”

“Only you!” Draco said, his voice pleading for more.

“Only I have touched your flesh?” Hermione's hand went flat on his ribs, her palm pressed flat over his nipple.

“Gods, yes!” Draco thrust up into her, vaguely aware that they had done something like this before, feeling passion and magic swirl around him.

Then her hand traced up his neck and over his chin. Three of her fingertips trembled over his mouth, and she stared down at him. Her hair curtained their faces, and Draco forgot everything except for those brown eyes and this woman who was hovering above him.

"Even here?" Hermione asked with a smile, tracing his lips.

Draco was lost to lust, and he licked her fingers as he nodded again. He was close, _so close_.

She began rolling her hips against his again. “You gave me your power to fight the impure.”

Pushing his heels into the floor, he pushed into her, their pace quickening. “Yes.”

“And I was successful.”

“Yes!” With the increased speed, her voice was breathy and low, and every word plucked at his self-control. Draco fought to increase his pounding rhythm to match the beat of his heart.

“Shall I keep you, Draco? Even now?”

“Yes! Please, Hermione! Keep me! Please!”

Her head dropped over his shoulder, and she spoke directly into his ear. “I will keep you, Draco. Your purity is mine forever.”

Draco roared, and without thinking, he rolled over so she was beneath him. He plunged inside of her, hard and fast, again and again, until she was moaning and pleading, begging for more.

He reached down and folded her legs up, burying himself even deeper. That was when he felt it, the perfect squeeze of her release as it milked him. Ecstasy flooded through him and into her. Their voices filled the room, and then all was silent, except for their panting breaths.

Draco fell away from her, and their legs became a tangled knot. It was dark in the library, but he found he could see around him. He realised he was in her inner sanctum, and used the time it took to catch his breath to absorb his surroundings.

“ _Accio_ wand,” Hermione whispered. Her wand came in through the open doorway and landed in her open hand.

Rolling his head to look at her, Draco watched as she cast spells to clean them up. Then, she stretched her arms above her head, pointing her toes and arching her back, letting her wand fall away.

Draco moved toward her, resting his head on her shoulder. He closed his eyes and reached a hand up to rest on her breast. The both smelled of vigorous sex, but he was hardly bothered.

They lay there for a few minutes, and then Hermione asked, “Married?”

“Only technically, not _officially_.”

“I hardly know you.”

“I think you know me well enough. The rest is just details.”

“Which is how you know someone properly.”

Draco snorted, his fingers gently testing the flesh in his hand.

“What does this mean for you?”

“I’ve inherited, I think. I will have to use the older channels to verify. I’ll have it straightened out with my barrister.”

“And Astoria?”

“I’m sure she’ll find someone else to marry for social reasons. I don’t think she even really likes me.”

“Smart girl. Ah!” Hermione slapped his side when he pinched her nipple.

Draco smiled.

They were quiet for a minute before Hermione asked, “And your father?”

“My father will be indebted to you for saving me. He will hate it, of course, but that was all my parents ever wanted.”

“Not ‘all’, I would say. I won’t play nice if he doesn’t, Draco.”

“I should hope not.”

“And what about me? I’m not ready to... I don’t know... erm... give my life over again so soon, Draco.”

“I think I can, as you said, let you have a little life for yourself, as long as you don’t keep me out of it.”

“You mean... dating?”

“Do I?”

“Yes, Draco, that would be what most people consider dating.”

“If you insist.” That earned him another slap on the side. This one stung a bit more. “You aren’t going to make me sleep in the guest room, are you?”

“Oh, but I am.”

“Granger! You’ve got to be joking!”

“Not in the least. Though, that is where I usually sleep as well. Technically, it is the guest bedroom.”

“ _Technically._ Granger, we’re going to have to discuss all these technicalities.”

“Yes,” she said as she yawned. “Not tonight, though. Coming to bed?”

She didn’t wait for him, but Draco didn’t seem to want to let her out of arm’s reach, so he was at her heels. Something about the night made him want to be as close to her as he could, and as he curled around her in bed, a real, soft, _proper_ bed, he felt like a promise was being kept.


End file.
